Igniting Faith
by TERMITE96
Summary: Living in a lonely cell and being forced into killing is slowly driving Erik insane. So when a young, innocent girl is thrust into the next door cell, will both of their lives be changed forever?
1. ch1

The cell was dark, dank and entirely malodorous. Mildew grew up the sides of the concrete walls, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe the longer I was here. But the longer I stayed here, the more I found that I really did not care if I suffocated. The only time I could relax was the time spent in my cell. As long as I was in my cell, I was safe. Safe; I laugh in the face of that word. Oh, what I would give to truly feel safe. What I would give to feel love and acceptance. What I would give to… oh, what's the use in dreaming. That can never be a reality. Well, at least not my reality. I was destined to be alone forever; to be an eternal outcast. I was tolerant enough to accept my God-given fate, or rather, face. I was a monster. My own mother told me so, but that was a long time ago. There was only one time in my life that I was allowed to feel truly happy, and that time was long gone as well. So now the only thing left of me was this; a flimsy bag to hide my monstrosity of a face, a lonely cell, and an aching soul.

The silence was suddenly attacked with an unbearable, yet all too familiar, screech. I stood swiftly, readying myself to face my impending doom. I knew what was coming next. The guards would drag me up two flights of steps, down a narrow hall, and finally deposit me inside a surprisingly roomy cage. I would then be forced to fend off whatever predator dare to enter, whether it be a wild animal or a tirade of bulky, angry men. Personally, I hoped for a wild animal; a lion or tiger preferably. I always hated killing men, though it was easy enough. The shah spared my first year with him to have me trained for combat with the country's best martial artist. At the time, I had found it quite interesting; but that was when I actually considered the shah a fellow human being. If I'd known the evil that man intended to use my skills for, I would have run the other way as fast as my legs could carry me. It was far too late for that now, though. The only thing I could now do was stand still as one guard pinned me to the ground so the other could rob me of my bag. Air cooled my face, and my eyes squeezed shut, preparing myself for the onslaught of insults thrown to me by a merciless audience. Sharp gasps pierced the air, and in that moment I was reassured that nobody would ever love me.

As fate has it, a lion was ushered in to face me. Poor, pitiful creature; one of nature's most dangerous and respected animals, and yet it still held no chance against me. I was a barbarian, a freak of nature. Carefully I crouched down into place. I would be sly and attack when least expected. The lion would interpret my behavior as submission, when in all reality I was preparing to strike. As I slowly drew my knife from the waistband of my loincloth, the beast snarled, and ducked low. A sure sign it was about to pounce. This was my shot. With only one opportunity to get this right, I lunged forward, effectively catching the lion off guard, and came crashing hard on the dirt. I thrust my dagger into the lion's side. It roared to life as I struck it fervently. This was easy. This was right. This was me; a savage. So, when the lion finally passed, feeling more confident than I should have, I stood tall and screamed to the horrified audience… "Fear me, for I am the most dangerous creature to ever exist!"


	2. Ch2

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera. I only own my own characters.**

"That was an impressive performance boy. I knew that you were wild, but I was unaware that you could take a lion down in under five minutes. Perhaps next time there will be a lion and a tiger."

I stared numbly into the face of my tormentor. The shah was praising me. This was a truly rare occasion. I would have rejoiced, but I knew better than that. Nothing in my life was ever good; not even approval from others. All this meant for me was that I would now have to endure more difficult fights. How delightful this was. Now was not the time to drown in self-pity, however. So I simply replied…

"I am honored to have pleased you, monsieur." I bowed my head in respect. The shah nodded.

"You do well by me child, but you know as well as I do that it is too great a risk on my part to allow you freedom. You must return to your chamber."

The shah was right of course, I knew well that he would never let me reside in one of his suites. His suites! _I_ constructed the entire building for him! I suppose comfortable living was too much for a freak to ask for. I knew these thoughts would get me nowhere. For now, I would just have to deal with being a forced professional assassin. I was not yet ready to set my escape plan in motion. Patience is a virtue.

Thoughts of escape occupied my mind as the guards yanked me through the halls. When they finally pushed me into my cell I was somewhat surprised to be back. And I was even more surprised to hear sniffling off to my left. Sniffling? Surely that can't be right. Whoever would be down here? I gazed around the small space cautiously… nothing. There was absolutely nothing here. Good God, the fights were going to drive me to the brink of insanity. I sauntered to the far corner of the cell, ready for a rest. Yes, rest would ease my paranoia. With my eyelids drooping and my head lolling off to the side, sleep graciously took me.

I was thoroughly aggravated that my slumber was interrupted entirely too early. A small whimper assaulted my ears. Would my mind ever allow me peace? I was about to dismiss the sound as a combination of fatigue and loneliness, but the whimper continued. The sound gained strength. Eventually it was nothing less than a scream. When I finally couldn't stand it any longer I called out to the person occupying the adjoining cell.

"Squealing as such will no doubt harm your vocal chords." Sudden silence greeted me.

"Wh-who is there?" The girl had a nice voice. After hearing such unbearable noises come from her throat, I was shocked at how relaxing a sound she produced. She was an alto, and I was certain she could soothe me to sleep with such a sweet tone.

"It is only your neighbor. So tell me, are you enjoying your stay?" I was such a low-life. Why did I insist on pestering the poor girl? She was obviously weathering a harsh day.

"Not particularly. I am sorry for disturbing you. I was uninformed there would be another person inhabiting the dungeon." She was doing everything in her power to hold back tears. Guilt spread through me. Being a prick was apparently second nature to me. This girl was sweet and deserved more kindness than I had offered.

"Pardon my poor manners, mademoiselle. It has been a long time since I've been in the presence of company."

"Yes, I can imagine not many come down here." The obvious pain in her voice was replaced by a rather contemplative tone.

"In all honesty, you are the first person besides me and the guards to be here in many years. This is outrageously out of routine on my end. I can't help but be curious; why are you here?" I waited a long while before she gently spoke.

"That is my business. Some things I wish to keep to myself if you don't mind." This I was not surprised by. There were many things that I would never tell about myself.

"I understand. Please forgive me. I will not pry, but I do expect the same courtesy of you."

"That is fair. My name is Rosalyn. If you like you may call me Rosie. What should I call you?" There's the dreaded question. Should I place trust in this girl? Should I give her my name? She was sitting in the same hell hole as I was. Surely it wouldn't hurt to be acquainted.

"You may call me Erik."

"Well Erik, I am pleased to meet you." Pleased to meet me? Not hardly. If she could, she would leave here without giving a second thought to me. If only this girl knew of the death had by my hands, she would not be so eager to be friends. Of that I was certain. But perhaps it would be good to have someone to confide in. Perhaps then I would find the strength to say no to the shah. Perhaps then I would stop dawdling and finally make my escape.

"Likewise." I would continue my charade and be polite to the girl. That is, until she asked why the guards come to fetch me every night, and why I always return an exhausted wreck. Once she knew the truth of my purpose here, I was sure she would turn from me. In the end, she would leave me. She would be just like everyone else, and I would be sentenced to an eternity of solitude.


	3. Ch3

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.**

Rosalyn's POV

Time was endless locked away in this cellar. Many nights passed that I did nothing other than try to forget I was surrounded by darkness.

Being half blind, I could not afford to have the rest of my vision stripped from me, so I would close my eyes and imagine the bright sun beaming through my bedroom window. Or I would try to remember my father's cry of delight when I befriended and trained the vicious stray dog that took to frightening the children in our neighborhood. The dog would prowl the block waiting for a suitable victim. It would snarl and growl. It did seem mean, but I knew it was only putting up a front. It had been battered its entire life, the only ounce of sympathy the creature had ever received was when its owner abandoned it. The pooch was killed one week later. At least it died having known one friend…

I couldn't help but compare the boy in the cell next to me, to this pup. True, I didn't know anything about him, but by the way he guarded his heart so heavily, I could only imagine what he had been through.

He didn't do much. Then again, there wasn't much to do here. Nightly, guards would haul him out of his cell and lead him to some unknown place. I wanted desperately to ask him about it, but every night he returned silent and shaking. I would walk across the cell to peer through the diminutive, barred window, and he would be a crumpled mess, sprawled across the cold floor. I always assumed he dozed off.

With the knowledge that he would not reciprocate my unabashed staring, I observed him. Well, I observed as best as I could. I could never make out much, though. The darkness combined with my withering sight was not the ideal setting for me.

He had a thin, yet sturdy, frame with long, lanky legs. Perfect for running about, I was sure. His arms dangled down his sides rather peculiarly, almost lazily. The most bizarre thing about him, however, was his elegant way of perching. He almost always appeared as if he was ready to attack. It was as if he was just waiting to be struck. And he probably was. I was lost in my thoughts, when an unbearably beautiful voice escorted me to reality.

"Have you ever heard the phrase: curiosity killed the cat?"

He had caught me gazing at him, and was no doubt angry about it. Heat rushed to my cheeks. Why do I always have to be overly obnoxious?

"I'm sorry, Erik. I didn't mean to be rude, I am only lonely."

_Only lonely_? How pathetic was I? He was as alone as I was, and he never complained. In fact, most likely the only reason he conversed with me at all was because there was no one else here. Who would want to be neighborly with a nosy blind girl?

"Rosalyn, forgive me. I have been gawked at many times, but never have I been a prospective companion. I'm afraid I have little to no social skills." His unearthly voice was trained to be monotonous, but when a person relies on her ears as much as I do, you learn to detect undertones.

I was appalled to realize that he was hiding feelings of disgust. Was I really that awful to talk to?

With hurt feelings, I replied cruelly… "I assure you, Monsieur, I couldn't gawk even if I wanted to!"

I turned quickly, not waiting for a reaction.

I knew I had only made matters worse. My insecurities had a way of clouding all reason. Now I was fully spent. I dropped to the ground, not caring in the least that I was still in full view of Erik and wept myself to sleep.

* * *

Erik's POV

Rosalyn's words had me reeling. I honestly had not the slightest clue what I had said wrong. I was perfectly polite, even though she was anything but. She admitted to my face that her only reason for speaking with me was because she was desperate. She didn't care who was sharing her cell, as long as someone saved her from her _loneliness_. How I loathed that word, especially coming from her mouth. She deserved so much better than this. She deserved better than me.

If I had a heart at all, she may as well have thrown it to the lion I killed last week when I saw her petite body shuddering with tears. I used to cry myself to sleep when I was younger, but the older I've become the more I found that my hardened heart would not allow that. There was no point to it really, it didn't change anything. I was still a murderer in the morning.

The fights had been gruesome lately. The Shah was a man of his word, so the night after I killed the lion, I walked into the cage to find a lion and a tiger. The following nights after I defeated both of the creatures, I was practically walking into a zoo every night. I was getting used to this. I was amused by the fact that the Shah seemed to prefer watching me fight animals rather than human beings. I would just have to kill creature after creature. One night it was a bear, the next it was a gorilla, but regardless of how lethal the animal may have been, I had never walked away with more than light scratches and bruising.

Rosalyn never questioned my injuries. When her gaze fell on me, it was almost as if she was looking through me, rather than _at_ me. I attributed that to the darkness of this prison, and thinking about it, that is most likely what she was referring to with her earlier comment. She couldn't gawk at me because it was so damn dark down here!

I felt slightly better after coming to this conclusion. I had feared she meant that I was so unworthy of her, that she wouldn't even throw me a pitying glance. Rosalyn was sweet, though, and after having gone through this together I was certain she would at least acknowledge my existence when we escape.

When _we_ escape? I realized for the first time since she arrived that, I had been subconsciously modifying my plans to include her. No, I would not leave her. I couldn't. She would never survive here on her own. She needed a protector, a defender. I could do that. I could keep her safe.

Feeling light from my newfound purpose, I allowed a small smile to curl my lips. I now had a reason to be here other than to cause pain. I was going to be the cause of good, not evil. This was a task that I was up to, and I knew beyond all reasonable doubt that I would not fail. When I set my mind on something worthwhile, I never failed. Confidence oozed from my pores as I set to conjuring detailed plans. Tonight, something had changed in me. An alien feeling was swirling around my soul. And it was the feeling of… hope?


	4. Ch4

Rosalyn's POV

I walked through the halls, wandering this strange palace. There were more secret passages here than I ever could have thought possible, if I hadn't seen them myself. The floors were slippery, especially when clad in my stockings**,** walking did prove to be a challenge.

Grand paintings adorned the walls. Sitting in the picture directly in front of me was the Shah in all his glory. I concluded that this wall was a collection of every Shah in Persian history.

I didn't have time to appreciate the work properly, though. I was looking for something or maybe it was someone… either way I was not entirely certain. I continued my slow trek through the wonderland I'd been tossed in. My eyes were sharp and focused; a truly odd occasion that only happened in dreams.

Cold air flowed in from behind me, and I turned abruptly. A hidden door was now open, and standing right in front of me was a person I had believed to be long gone.

"Mama? Mama, wha- what are you doing here? I-I thought God needed you in heaven!" I sprinted towards her, nearly falling flat on my face, and crushed her with a strong grip.

"My sweet Rosalyn. Dear, I didn't know you had such strength." My mother chuckled slightly and released me, looking me straight in the eyes.

"You are absolutely beautiful Rosa," my mother cooed, "I have missed you so." She reached out to gently wipe the tears from my face.

Swallowing a sob, I replied painfully "I missed you more." At this she pulled me into a tight hug, and I began sobbing all over again. This time when my mother pulled back she was not smiling. I stared at her questioningly.

"Walk with me, Rosalyn. We have much to discuss." Her voice was stern; I knew what was coming next. I followed her without hesitation.

We walked for a short while before she spoke, "You are here for a purpose, Rosalyn, and I have reason to believe you have neglected that purpose."

"Mama, I don't understand. I have been doing what was asked of me-**"**

She interrupted, "Rosa, you have not. You were instructed to make friends with the boy, and you have been nothing but rude to him."

I bowed my head in shame. Mama was right, I had been horribly rude to Erik the previous night.

"I'm sorry,Mama. It's just that he's extremely difficult to talk to. He won't say more than three sentences at a given time. How do you get to know someone who doesn't want your company?"

Her face softened at that.

"Oh darling, he does want your company. You are a ray of sunshine to him. You must remember that he has never known anything but darkness. He is wounded, and it is your obligation to heal him."

Looking at her hopelessly, I wondered aloud, "What if I can't?"

She shook her head, "Then this entire project, all of your suffering, will have been in vain. You must make peace," she gazed at me intensely, "only then can justice reign."

She shot a glance towards the heavens and announced, "I must go. Remember, Rosalyn, that I love you and I am always with you. Make friends."

Before I could respond, she melted into the light.

* * *

Gasping sharply, my eyes shot open. I sat up, trying to collect my breath. How long had it been since I'd dreamt of my mother? It had been months, the last time being a few weeks after her mysterious disappearance. She always appeared to me as an angel, so I assumed she had been murdered.

Thinking about her words, I knew she was right. I needed to refocus my energy. Get to know Erik. Gather information of the happenings in this palace and report my findings to the law. Mama was counting on me. Papa was counting on me. Even Erik was counting on me, although he didn't know that. When this was over, we would both be free. There would be no criminally inclined Shah to hold him hostage. There would be no schemes for me to investigate. Justice and peace and love would triumph once again. Yes, Mama was right. I must make peace and then all will be well with the world.

* * *

Erik's POV

Rosalyn's sleep was disturbed. Her breath was labored and rigid. Through all of her tossing about I managed to hear the few random words she mumbled. I pieced together that she was dreaming of her mother. Poor girl, she probably misses home terribly.

I was disheartened by the fact that she would never be allowed home. For whatever reason the Shah had for holding her hostage, I was sure that once he knew she was gone, he would send people to seek her. The first place they would look would be her home. There was no telling how long we would be on the run, but I knew that once we started, we would not look back for anything. Ever.

A sharp gasp rang through the room. She was awake. I waited for her breathing to slow before I sang out to her.

"Are you alright, Rosalyn?"

There was a heavy silence before she finally replied.

"I'm fine, thank you. I'm just a bit shaken up." Her voice was raspy.

She'd never sounded like this before. Whatever nightmare she'd been plagued with had bothered her greatly.

"You sounded like you were having a nightmare. Would you care to tell me about it?"

She sniffled loudly before she choked out, "I dreamt of my mother. She came to me from the heavens, as if she were an angel. And right before I woke, she disintegrated." She was now sobbing forcefully.

I felt horrible for asking, but I needed to know.

"Is your mother deceased?" She let out a low gurgle before responding.

"I wish I knew. She disappeared at her work only months ago. She worked here actually. She was a maid. Perhaps you have an idea what happened? You have been here much longer than I have."

My blood ran cold. In that moment, I hated the Shah more than I hated my face. The more I learned about Rosalyn, I came to understand that her earlier life had been nowhere near as simple as I had imagined. She had been hurt so many times. I couldn't bring myself to share with her the unfortunate events that took place a few months back.

"I'm sorry Rosalyn; I am not sure what happened." I was such a liar. Why couldn't I just be honest with her?

She sighed and said, "Sometimes, I like to imagine that she is here. Locked away just like you and I. Not that this is a desirable situation, I just want so badly to believe that she is alive."

My chest swelled in adoration. How could anyone stay so optimistic in such a dump? I honestly believed that she must have been sweeter than honey.

"I understand what you mean, Rosalyn. You have my deepest condolences. It is not fair that you had to endure such a dream."

She giggled softly and replied, "Oh, but I love dreaming. Even when they are sad, at least then I can see."

At least then she could see? Why did she keep referring to sight?

"What do you mean?"

"I was born without sight in my right eye, and I have severe myopia in my left. Doctors say I'll be totally blind by the time I'm thirty."

A blind girl! What did the Shah want from a blind girl?

Rosalyn's problems just kept piling up. Why did I always feel so sorry for myself when other people's lives were just as miserable as mine?

"Oh." What a pathetic response. The girl opens up to me and all I can muster is two measly letters.

"Thank you for listening to me, Erik. I know I can be a burden most of the time, but I am tired. I would like to try to sleep." She did sound tired. She was probably insulted by my lack of articulation. Do I ever do anything right?

"Sleep well Rosalyn. Wake me if you have another dream, and you are definitely not a burden,dear."

"I will. Goodnight, Erik." Rosalyn fell silent and I was left to my thoughts.

Well this certainly changed things. How was I going to lug a blind girl around with me? I would reconsider my plans later, but now I desperately needed sleep because in a few hours, I had yet another fight.


	5. Ch5

Erik's POV

I stepped into the cage, bracing myself for what I would find, not believing from where I stood that there was nothing present. There must be something. I was on alert. There was no sign of a wild beast. No incoherent gurgles, no dreadful roars, there was only silence.

Not a sound floated through the air. I fingered the hilt of my dagger. This was not right. Not right at all.

Perhaps the Shah had not planned a fight tonight, and I was waiting on something that would never appear. No, that would not happen. The Shah was always ahead of himself.

I strode to the middle of the cage, awaiting my attacker. Guardedly, I circled the cage, eyeing every corner. It wasn't until I turned back to my original position that I saw it. What looked like dozens of eyes were on me; human eyes. Angry hollers broke the silence, and at least thirty men or better charged forward.

My eyes widened in shock. Could I defeat such a large group? Acting on pure instinct, I gripped my dagger and began thrashing.

* * *

Rosalyn's POV

Tonight was the night I had been dreading since my dream. Tonight would be the night that I would deliver the news of my failure. I would be seen for what I really am, weak and incompetent. I was given one mission only, and I couldn't accomplish it. Father would be so ashamed.

The loud squeal of the rusting door interrupted my thoughts. They're here.

"Rosa?" Warmth coursed through my heart.

I knew that voice anywhere. That voice which read me bedtime stories and comforted me so when Mama left.

"Father! Oh Father I have missed you so much." I heard the sound of a key fiddling with a lock, and the door was swung open.

I jumped into my father's embrace.

"How are you? Are you alright? Have the guards been feeding you?" Papa had always been overbearingly protective, but now I couldn't complain.

I smiled widely at him.

"Oh father, I am fine, really. I am just so glad that you are here!"

My father's presence had lifted my mood. Not even my bad news would upset me now. There was a slight cough, and we both turned to face the man with Father, his associate.

"Rosalyn, have you learned anything yet?" There was the reason for my previous foul mood. I frowned slightly.

"No, not yet. Erik is a difficult person to get to know. He refuses to talk to me about anything but myself. I fear this may take a while yet."

I was relieved to hear what came from his mouth next.

"I figured as much. You will most likely be here for a few more weeks. Are you prepared to handle that?"

My father shot me a pleading glance. He hated me being here and no doubt wanted me to say no, that I wanted to go home. And I did want to go home, more than anything, but I couldn't abandon what I had started. So, I replied in the affirmative.

After exchanging hugs and farewells, the daroga informed us that their time was up. My heart sank at that. It was difficult saying goodbye to my mother in a dream, and it was even more difficult saying goodbye to my father in reality.

"Be safe, Rosa," my father murmured before the door was shut and I was once again jailed.

* * *

Erik's POV

This was madness. Yes, I was going mad.

The Shah must have wanted me dead. He must know that no man, no matter how trained, could ever kill thirty men singlehandedly. Of course, I wasn't so sure that the Shah actually considered me a man. He thought I was a killing machine, void of all emotion.

And at the moment, I certainly wasn't doing anything to convince him otherwise.

My dagger pierced men's abdomen, it decapitated some, and it even went so far as to gouge eyes out. I had no control over the evil thing. It was as if the last ounce of life residing in me was being transferred to it.

As I killed men, seemingly with ease, my limbs grew heavier. This was exhausting. I consoled myself with thoughts of Rosalyn sleeping safely in her cell. I just had to finish with this. Keep going. Don't stop until they're all lifeless, and then I would be able to retreat into the darkness.

I would lie on the cold concrete and relax a bit. I would immerse myself in the sound of Rosalyn's sweet voice. Now I desperately longed for this fight to be over. I wanted to be in my cell passing words with the girl who needed me.

A hiss escaped my lips as I found myself being attacked. A boy, thinner even than I was, punched me square in the jaw. Scrambling to my feet, I bore down on the boy. Just as I was about to finish him off, I noticed it.

It was small indeed, but still painstakingly clear. On his wrist laid painfully familiar scars. I studied his marred skin, and then glanced to my own wrist, remembering when the Shah had put them there. Finally, I looked in his face and found him staring right back at me. His eyes were dull and lifeless. I understood that look thoroughly.

It dawned on me then that he didn't want to be here, none of them wanted to be here. This group was the product of a scheming, sniveling Shah. Of course I knew that the Shah was a criminal, and perhaps even insane, but I had never imagined that he would stoop to this level.

He didn't want me dead, he wanted them dead, and I was a profitable way of doing it. Oh how convenient this was for him! Have the disfigured freak wipe out his problems, while charging an audience an unruly amount.

It sickened me to think that by doing this, I was helping the Shah in his sinister ways. I was still his little slave, even though he wouldn't even bother to order me about anymore. He was manipulating me in a way that I had never considered. I had made a point of not resisting when the guards would haul me out of my cell, just so I could say that he wasn't forcing me into anything. I would rather be a killer of my own volition than his pawn.

Yet, doing this willingly was only making it that much easier for him. At this, I stopped dead. I would not bend to his will any longer.

Bracing myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and sat down, welcoming the darkness to take over.

* * *

Rosalyn's POV

My hands skimmed along the concrete walls as I paced. My heart was hammering in my ears loudly. My breath came out in short gasps, and perspiration was beginning to form on my brow.

Why wasn't he back yet? He was taking far too long. He was always back by now. My mind reeled as I considered the possibilities. I was never told where he was taken off to, but I knew that it was an unpleasant experience. For all I knew, he was chained to a wall and beaten senseless.

That image was something I did not need to imagine. Erik had to be okay. He had to be. He was my last chance at ever finding my mother. He was my last chance at living happily again. I knew that Erik knew what was going on; he just didn't want to tell me. And this irritated me to no end, but I was certain that within time, I could convince him to tell me. I would work on that when he came back. I desperately needed him to be here. I needed to talk to him.

Feeling there was nothing else I could do, I sank to my knees and prayed silently for the return of the boy with all the answers.


	6. Ch6

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera**

Erik's POV

My body convulsed as fists hounded my skin, and the cold concrete was a welcome distraction. I would take anything to keep my mind off of the pain echoing through my body. Shivers ran up my spine, my hair stood on end, and warm blood drizzled down my chin, dropping in a pool on my bare chest.

The crowd cheered and yelled behind me. For me, or against me, who knows? I didn't care one way or the other. All coherent thoughts were far away now. The only thing I was sure about was the pounding in my head, and that death was possible.

As if death scared me. Ha! I was ready to die. I was ready to die years ago.

If only life had offered me peace and harmony, perhaps I would be normal. Perhaps then, I could seclude myself and hide my deformity from the world. But the truth was this; my face was the least deformed part of my being. I had a tangled and twisted heart. Years of living in an unforgiving world had hardened me.

Humanity was good at that. Taking an innocent child, and corroding him. Cramming such evil thoughts in his head that soon he doesn't even recognize himself. He thinks of himself as the scum of the earth and nothing will ever change that.

Yes, that is what the world did to me. That is why I don't care that I'm lying here being beaten to death. That is why when I felt a sweaty hand reach for my dagger, I handed it over without argument.

I waited for the sting of my dagger, ready to feel what I had dealt so many times before, ready to finally be out of my misery. But it never came. In fact, nothing came. No punches, no kicks.

A voice sounded through the room. The Shah announced that the fight was over, and instructed everyone to go home.

I opened my eyes to find an angry audience being ushered out the door, and about fifteen men being held back. Each one harbored the desire to finish their duty.

Two guards waltzed towards me, and pulled me to my feet. The weight of my body on my torn and battered legs was unbearable. When they let go, I tumbled to the ground, coughing up blood. The guards swore under their breath, and this time pulled me by my arms towards the infirmary, not bothering to stand me up.

Spasms etched their way up my spine as my body dragged the floor. The agony was greater than I had expected. They towed me a few feet and eventually deposited on an old creaky mattress.

Oh my, a bed! I hadn't been on a bed in many years.

A nurse walked through the door. She was of the lovely variety, with soft red hair and tormented golden eyes. She was familiar, very familiar.

"How are you feeling, Monsieur?" She asked.

All I managed was a low groan. Never in my life had I been deprived of my voice, but it was nowhere to be found now. I rolled my eyes to the back of my head.

"Don't worry, you'll feel better soon, and then you can get out of here."

My eyes opened in an instant. How could she possibly know of my escape plan?

"What?" I barely managed to choke out.

"In a few moments, you can go back to your sleeping quarters."

I heaved a heavy sigh, and she smiled lightly at me.

"I'm not surprised you're confused. You may have a concussion."

The nurse continued her speech diligently, explaining all the details of a concussion. She finally listed my other injuries.

"You have two fractured ribs, any number of torn ligaments, a few lacerations, and several contusions," she said, "you're fine, in a lot of pain, but fine."

Expected. I decided to do something good, no more killing, and I still don't deserve the luxury of a peaceful afterlife. I am doomed to experience all the pain this world has to offer.

The nurse looked to the clock in the corner, and sighed.

"I have to go. You're not my only patient, you know."

She looked at me intensely, with a new kind of vigor I hadn't yet seen.

"Take care of yourself, Erik. You never know who's counting on you."

I pulled my brow down, and stared at her. How much of my life did this woman actually know? She replaced her frown with a bright smile, and turned to leave.

As she left the room, a new figure appeared at the door; the man behind all of my agony.

The Shah glared at me, inching forward.

"I am going to say this one time only. I do not find your antics amusing. The next time you pull a stunt, I _will_ execute you."

With that, the Shah exited the room.

* * *

Rosalyn's POV

I sat in the corner of my prison, nibbling on a tart that my father had brought me.

Night had passed and a new day was rising. A beautiful day that I would be, once again, deprived of. I had been awake for what was going on twenty-seven hours, exactly. Twenty-seven hours of no Erik. Twenty-seven hours. I counted the minutes.

He's probably dead, or maybe he was released. Perhaps the Shah is holding him where he is holding the rest of his prisoners. Surely he has more than two, but I suppose I don't count. He doesn't even know I am here.

My hands flew to my ears at the unexpected squeal of the door opening, but I quickly recovered, and jumped to my feet.

I heard a body being thrown into my neighbor cell. My curling lips consumed my entire face, and my heart pounded in my chest. I scurried to the minute window, to look in his cell. At this moment I wished that there was no wall between us.

When the click of the door being latched rang through the air, I couldn't contain myself any longer.

"Erik! Where have you been? Oh, I was so worried! But, you're here, and you're safe!"

I hushed, waiting for his response, but there was no response. My face fell, and I felt the anxiety slowly creeping up on me.

"Erik, what's wrong? Why won't you talk to me?"

Again, there was no reply.

"Oh this is ridiculous! I have waited up during the longest twenty-seven hours of my life for your return! And when you finally come back, you won't even speak with me!"

"You counted?" He asked.

His voice was hoarse, he didn't sound at all like himself. I realized that he was injured. He was injured, and I was yelling at him! This was not the reunion I had pictured.

"Of course, I thought you were in danger."

There, that's more like it. Use soft, sweet words. Not angry words.

"Erik, please tell me. What's wrong? What happened?" I was begging him.

He released an angry huff.

"What's wrong? What's wrong!" His tone was strong, and even though his voice cracked, I could hear the malice lingering on his tongue.

"My wretched face is wrong! My job is wrong! My entire life is wrong! What _isn't _wrong with this forsaken world?"

I flinched at his volume. Shivers scurried down my spine, goose bumps consumed my arms, and the air was suddenly freezing. I imagined monsters dancing in the shadows of my cell, waiting for the right moment to drag me away from the light forever.

"What kind of job do you have, Erik?"

"It's not important." He was much quieter this time. He sounded exhausted.

"But, Rosalyn, there's something I've been thinking of for a while." His whisper was intense.

"I- I'm not going to stay here much longer. I am going to escape, and when I leave, I want you to come with me."

"Erik, I don't know what to say."

This would ruin everything. We can't leave. I haven't figured it out yet. I need more time. Besides, where would we go? I couldn't leave Papa. Not when he's still heartbroken over losing Mama.

"Fine! You want to rot away in here, be my guest!"

He was angry again. I had to go with him. There was no point in my being here if he wasn't with me. No matter where he is, he will still have the information I need. The next time father and the Daroga visit, I will tell them of Erik's plan, and we will then readjust our plan.

"No, Erik. I want to go with you! Really. I'm just not sure how you plan on doing this."

"Don't worry. I designed the entire building; I know all the secrets to this place. I assure you, my plan will work."

There was a certainty about him that was difficult to dispute, and I believed him.


End file.
